


Blue Eyes

by dreamforlife



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Enjoy!, I Don't Even Know, I don't, M/M, however, this was fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamforlife/pseuds/dreamforlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So...Louis. Yeah, he's a bit of problem, puts a kink Liam's plan, so to say. Liam hates him as much as he loves him, and he refuses to believe it.</p><p>Niall is having none of it. </p><p>Harry and Zayn try to be patient. </p><p>Spoiler: it doesn't work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The water gleams under the hot summer sun.

Liam sighs, the waves gentle around his ankles, sun-warmed and comforting, as he strolls along the shoreline of a beach in Santa Cruz.

The comfort that he found in the ocean, he knows, was partly due to the colour, that blue that came from deep down, hiding so many brilliant secrets, reminding him of the eyes that haunted his dreams.

It’s weird, how lonely he feels sometimes and how suffocating that is even when he’s surrounded by people every second of every day. Being on tour, it’s amazing, he could never find the words to explain the feeling that he got every time he got on the bus to another city to play for thousands of people.

But the loneliness stems from something deeper, an empty space in his life that even Danielle hadn't been able to fill. He’s a relationship type of guy; the appeal of one-night stands is something he never really understood, how the boys could so flippantly throw someone out, a person of blood, flesh and emotion, the next morning and not feel guilty for doing so. 

The breakup with Danielle had been inevitable, they'd seen it coming and taken it in their stride. She had known he didn't love her like he may have tried to, and he had tried _so hard_. She had known that someone else had his heart and the brilliant girl that she was, didn't hate him for it. 

'I deserve someone who'll love _me_ , Li, someone who I can come home to without knowing that he's in love with someone else', she'd said, smile soft as she curled up next to him on their couch, 'And you...I want you to be happy. I may not know who it is, but she’d be a bloody idiot not to love you.' 

That’s the first time he’d cried. Right there, into her shoulder. She’d held him til morning swept in, and with the morning came his friends, smiling at them curled on the couch.

Shock wasn’t the word that described their faces when Danielle announced the end of their relationship. Niall had gone to protest but it had been Louis who had silenced him with a glare.

They’d drowned him in cuddles and ice cream after Danielle had moved out, not letting him do anything by himself, never leaving him alone.

It’s Louis’ concern during those two weeks more than anything that made him fall even more in love with his band mate. It’s also during those two weeks that the other boys realised that Liam was far more than head over heels for Louis. He’d denied it. Denied it vehemently. They’d let themselves believe his lies. Louis was still as oblivious as an owl flying in daytime.

They’d played FIFA until Louis had swept in with groceries and yelled at them all for being so loud.

He loves his boys; he can’t imagine his life without them now.

Niall had just happened, it had been as easy as a laugh and a hug and they'd just...become friends, simple. Harry had been easy to read too, an innocent sixteen year old wanting to make everyone happy, all charismatic green eyes and wide grin that threatened to make anyone and everyone a slave to those winking dimples. Harry had just licked a strip along Liam's neck and merely burrowed into his side and that had been it.

Zayn, on the other hand, had been a little harder to crack, those dark brooding eyes untrusting until that night, three weeks into live shows, when homesickness had surrounded the Bradford boy like the crushing grip of a boa constrictor. Liam remembers finding him, curled into an angst-ridden ball of misery, tucked away into the corner of his top bunk, hidden away in the darkness. The tears had been hard to ignore, starkly iridescent in the pale light from the window, as he had leant against the window frame. He had started, deep honey-brown eyes at their most vulnerable and clear as they had stared up at Liam standing in the doorway. He had hesitated, a pang of sympathy echoing in him at this crack in the 'bad boy' armour that Zayn had kept firmly surrounding him, a crack that had showed the inexperienced young boy inside. Liam had slipped in next to him, winding an arm around the trembling shoulders and pressed against his side, a warm weight, a warm body offering comfort. Zayn had cracked a watery smile, pulling out an ear bud and putting it into Liam's ear, the sounds of some unfamiliar tune pushing its way inside his head. The iPod had appeared from beneath the covers, the name lighting up their faces. _‘Jay...Zed?’_ he had whispered, unsure, but a quiet shout of victory zinged inside his chest as Zayn had laughed, an outburst of unexpected sound, surprised. ‘ _It's Jay-Zee, Leeyum.’_

From then on, it had become their thing, just like cuddling is Harry's and Louis', or Fifa is his and Niall's. So as the late nights crept on after long days of rehearsals, there was no mistake, Liam would be in Zayn's bunk, curling up under the covers, ear buds stretching between them.

But it had been Louis who had confused Liam the most, cackling like any fictional villain one minute while running around pranking everyone, but glaring at him the next as he stayed glued to Harry's side, watching Liam as he let Zayn curl into his side, night after night. He hadn’t understood what Louis was trying to convey, pinching his nipples and getting into wrestling matches, and biting his neck like some blood deprived vampire before shoving him away with that horrible pinched look that Liam had grown to _hate_.

A scream of a seagull arches overhead, staccato wing beats punching through the air.

Liam drags a toe through the wet sand as a wave breaks over his feet.

He had never fully been able to crack Louis, although he had managed to peel away layer after layer after layer over the past three years, slowly revealing the complexity of the vibrant personality that he had hidden away beneath that initial wall of instant knee-jerk sarcasm.

Liam watches Louis more closely than he watches the other three, he knows that. He knows that Louis likes plain Yorkshire tea and he can’t sleep without it; he knows (and hates) the gut-twisting expression that flashes through those blue eyes when he misses a note or doesn’t hit a harmony just right and beats himself up over it; he knows the way Louis looks, late in the night and drunk out of his mind, crawling all over Liam because he’s the only one who’s coherent and steady because although he can drink now, he doesn’t, not too much. Liam feels a certain guilt when admitting to himself that he prefers that Louis, filthily drunk and unaware of anything besides being absolutely and brutally adorable. Liam feels grounded and comfortable, wrapping the older and smaller lad inside his arms on the way back home and letting himself be attached to Louis on another emotional level although Louis never remembers the next day.

But he has this feeling, this sometimes horrible, curling heated... _thing_ in his stomach that tells him that there was only one more layer to go. Just one more before he can understand Louis properly, get right under that rock-solid wall built out of the sheer fear of emotional attachment.

Liam has figured out one thing. Louis is terrified of getting hurt. Always finding _some_ way to block the impending feelings before he has a chance to _feel_. He often wonders whether it had been Louis' way of dealing with the divorce of his parents, having seen his mother break under the pressure, his way of saying, 'No. I'm not letting that happen to me.'

It makes him slightly insensitive at times, unsympathetic, but Liam can never find fault with him, can never blame him for anything more than a stolen biscuit or ripped t-shirt.

A thick breeze drags over his head, brushing through the hair that had grown back slowly after he had shaved it all off. It was almost like drunk-Louis, pushing his palms over Liam's head, giggling to himself, as he lay draped over his lap in the back of the car.

'He—'

Liam screams.

'Hey, it's just—'

Another scream.

There’s a slap to his arm, 'For bloody God's sake, Payno, it's only me!'

Niall glares at him and Liam offers a sheepish smile.

'Sorry?'

The Irishman rolls his eyes, hooking an arm around his waist, 'You looked like you needed to be saved-'

'But there's no one-'

'From your mind,' Niall continues over Liam, 'Thinking bout Lou?'

A flush clenches his cheeks and he bites his lip, relaxing against the solid presence of Niall, and breathes out a slow _'yeah'_.

As they amble back in the direction of the hotel, the blonde shakes his head with a small smile.

'It's interesting, ain't it? How much you think about him.' At Liam's look, Niall rolls his eyes again, 'Don't even try and pull that shit with me, Li. When're you going to admit you're in love with him?'

Liam shrugs, knowing that if he denies it yet _again_ (this isn’t their first conversation about this, Niall had asked him a few months ago…), that Niall would never let him go.

'Li…at least just tone down the staring that you do, Lou's bound to notice, yeah?' Niall murmurs as they reach the outer staircase that led to their suite.

Although Liam makes a sound of consent, it is, at best, half-hearted as Louis appears on the balcony, eyes blocked by sunglasses and shirtless, already tanned skin glowing in the late afternoon sun. He plays the part of a disinterested rock star down to the _T_ , sometimes so well that Liam worries that they'll lose him all too soon to the flashing neon lights of the night clubs of Vegas or the sun-drenched beaches of Miami.

An exasperated Niall, with a silly grin on his face, sky blue eyes twinkling with mirth, jerks him out of his thoughts.

Niall says nothing but hands his phone to Liam, gesturing to the screen with a wave of his hand. Cautious, Liam eyes the younger lad before looking down at the screen and—

 _Oh_.

It’s him, just then, standing there and looking upwards. But. An overly fond smile is curled at the corners of his lips, eyes crinkling at the sides as a slight blush presses into his cheeks. He looks...he looks like Zayn, whenever Perrie is brought up in conversation, the silly love-sick grin plastered all over his face, eyes twinkling.

_How does Love speak?_

'Oh,' he whispers, darting a glance up at Louis and watching, mesmerised, as the oldest licks his dry lips slowly, leaving them a bright, glistening pink. It makes it worse that his eyes are hidden behind three hundred dollar _Ray-Bans_.

Niall barks a laugh, snatching back the phone, 'Yeah. Yer worse than Zayn and Perrie, Leeyum. That’s saying somethin’.

Blushing hotly even as the sun blazes down, Liam bolts up the stairs, ignoring Niall's cackling laughter, passes a startled Louis and right into his room and then into the bathroom, throwing himself under the coldest water spray on the shower, shivering.

He can’t be.

No.

He’s—he isn’t—Louis—

 _Fuck_.  
  
*  
  
Liam is completely fucked, as he figured out somewhere between that icy shower and their next concert in San Francisco a few days later, he is completely and _utterly_ fucked.

Because Niall was _right_. (He’s always right; Liam can’t remember a time when Niall had ever been wrong. He decides that there must be some kind of magic running through his Irish blood.)

Every time he turns around and Louis is the one who had found him, he stutters and blushes like any other teen girl before finding some excuse to walk in the opposite direction (Not that the excuses were any good; Liam can always feel the icy glare of Louis’ blue eyes burning on his neck as he runs away).

Louis is on the warpath lately, snapping at the slightest thing that annoyed him and yelling at anything and everybody, even Niall, who _no_ _one_ yells at. Ever. It’s an unwritten rule.

Liam just finds it an even better reason to stay away, or he might accidentally kiss him or something. (He can never predict himself around Louis. Which is what had led to his first tattoo. He’d stumbled out of the tattoo parlour, dazed, staring at the black plastic wrapped around his forearm. Niall had laughed in his face.)

Zayn and Harry had known, apparently, from their first tour—no, not the Up All Night tour, the _X Factor_ tour—which was almost _two whole years ago._

'You didn't know?'

Harry snorts milk through his nose at the force of his laughter, and after a hysterical coughing fit, wraps Liam in a gangly-limbed hug.

'Shit, Li, it's so obvious that you're barely only a smile away from requesting a personal audience with the Queen to beg for gay marriage to be legalised in England just so you could get married and have your house and dog and three kids named—'

'Emily, Sam and Ginny.' Liam finishes for him in a daze, letting Harry manhandle onto the bigger couch on the bus, enfolding him into an infamous Harry hug, nose tucking into his neck and arms around his waist.

'I was going for Harriet, Harry and Edwina, but whatever you want, Li,' The green-eyed boy rubs a palm down his back slowly before moving it back up, soothing.

And that was how Zayn finds them—having just woken up—almost three hours later, Liam curled into a ball with Harry wrapped around him, arms and legs tangled like an octopus around Liam.

'What's wrong, Leeyum?' Zayn drawls, swinging down next to Liam when Harry pats the spot with his sock-covered foot.

'Just realised that he's head over heels for one Louis William Tomlinson and wants to have his little blue-eyed babies.' Harry explains with a laugh, a knowing look exchanged with Zayn.

Liam flaps a hand in his direction but sends a pleading look at Zayn, who smiles softly and pushes a hand into Liam's hair, massaging gently.

'I thought you knew, babes,' He mumbles in a voice saturated by sleep and early morning exhaustion.

'But I didn't!' Frustrated tears push out of Liam's eyes and they are instantly brushed away by his friends.

'Who made Liam cry?'

The three of them start at the almost harsh voice, looking up at an adorably sleep-rumpled Louis standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, hair flying everywhere.

Before Liam realises, he was pushing away from the other two, his gravitational centre switching from Zayn and Harry to Louis in an instant as he moves towards him, biting his lip on a smile as he pushes into the thick hair and brushes it with his fingers, styling it somewhat normally.

'Better,' he whispers quietly, fingers flitting lightly over Louis’ jaw.

_The quivering lid of an averted eye_

Then he stumbles backwards with a hitched gasp, spinning around to see the mocking grins on his band mates' faces before running for the shower.

'What the fuck—' is all he hears before he yanked the water on.

  
*  
  
'They told me,' Niall murmurs, as he stands next to him, right before they went on stage that night.

Liam swallows around the lump that appears in his throat, 'Yeah. It—it was as sad as they said it was.'

'Tell him.'

'What?!' Liam blinks in rapid succession, gaping at the blonde Irishman, wondering if all the beer had finally gone to his head.

Niall crosses his arms, blue eyes rolling, 'Tell him that you think the sun shines out of his ass and want to have little adorable-as-fuck babies with him and buy a house together.'

'But—what—I—'

'Just tell him. He's been stomping around the place like someone pissed in his tea both last night _and_ this morning.' Niall interrupts with a lazy tap to Liam's bicep, 'He's about as far gone for you as you are for him. Honestly Li, he gets crazy jealous every single time Zayn crawls up next to you or you're out with me, he would have had us all incarcerated and electrocuted if we weren't his best friends too.'

‘Look who swallowed the dictionary.’

That earns him a punch in the arm.

‘Fuck off, Mr-I-hang-out-with-Englishy-Zayn, we can’t all bare to be around smart people when they’re high and ramble on about Byron and Shelley.’

Liam stifles a laugh as their microphones crackle to life, and wraps a hand around the top, lowering his voice, ‘Byron and Shelley—you _do_ listen. Besides, Zayn’s _interesting.’_

Niall’s eyes flashes with humour in the slivers of stage light that filter through the breaks between the equipment, ‘Are yer sayin’ that the rest of us aren’t?’

‘No?’

‘Yeah, yeah, we’ll see who comes crawling back,’ the blonde boy grins, raising an eyebrow, ‘At least Louis likes me.’

He scoffs a laugh, fiddling with the sleeves of his plaid shirt tied around his waist, 'No. He probably doesn’t. No one but _Harry_ anyway.’

Niall's eyes widen and a disbelieving laugh jumps out of his throat, 'Are you _jealous_ of Harry?'

'No…'

'I can't believe this,' the younger lad mutters almost to himself, 'I literally cannot believe this. You two are the most oblivious idiots in the world.'

Glancing around at the crew flitting around, Niall leans over, microphone lowering to his side, ‘Get yer ass over to my room tonight. We’re talking ‘bout this.’

Liam barely hears him.

His ears prick as Louis’ hysterical laughter is transmitted over the speakers, most likely by accident, and the screams double to a deafening roar above their heads.

_An unnamed light that floods the world with splendour_

A small smile quirks at the corners of his lips, because Louis’ laugh? It’s something else entirely.

‘ _Oi!’_

Liam supposes he deserves the slap to the head.

He shrugs in apology, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head, ‘Sorry.’

Niall’s expression is grudgingly fond as he glances behind Liam, ‘You really aren’t…and I really don’t know what you see in _that.’_

He looks over his shoulder, heart almost bursting from blinding adoration at the sight of Louis covered in feathers (where the hell did the feather come from?), eyes positively _glowing_ from the inside out, smile stretching out over his face, pushing up at his cheeks, corners of his eyes crinkled in such a way that Liam finds his breath escaping him.

It suddenly occurs to him that they have less than six minutes to get Louis presentable to go on stage as their stylists roll their eyes and drags the oldest to the dressing room by his shirt. 

Liam finds himself stumbling off the platform and moving towards them, before he’s stopped by an irritated sound crewmember that yanks off his microphones and flipped him off. 

Ignoring Niall's catcalls, Harry's smug presence and Zayn quiet amusement, he sprints out to the hallways, up the stairs to the main level and practically falls into the dressing room, knocking over a rail of clothes.

 _'Liam!_ ' Louise, their stylist, groans, yanking out multiple feathers out of Louis' hair in blatant exasperation as Caroline rubs her temples with a grimace.

Liam bites his lip in apology; face aflame, 'I've got this, Lou, s'alright.'

Lou eyes him, suspicion clear in her eyes before they widen slightly. 

'He's all yours, babe,' she calls, waving herself out the door, grin borderline wicked as she wiggles her fingers at him, pulling a frowning Caroline after her. 

The silence that’s left behind rings with awkward tension. 

'What do you _want_ , Liam?' 

He flinches at the icy edge in Louis' voice, hauling up the rack of clothes and turning to the blue-eyed boy. 

'We...uh, have to get on stage soon—'

'I'm aware.'

_In the wild words that uttered seem so weak_

'I'm sorry okay?!' Liam blurts, 'I...god Louis, I know I've been a dick lately but, I mean, you just—and I—' 

_They shrink ashamed in silence_

'Save it, Payne. If you don't have anything to say, let alone apologise, you might as well not say anything at all. Leave me alone, you fucking dick!’

(Liam valiantly tries to ignore the irony of that… _fucking dick_ …he fails)

Louis shakes out his hair violently, feathers cascading around him, and storms out the door, Liam gaping after him, a clenching ball of misery growing in his stomach. 

(He resolutely ignores the sharp tug of arousal at the pit of his stomach, because no, he refuses to be attracted to this angry version of Louis, no matter how hot he is with that angry glint in his blue eyes and the flushed cheeks and…okay no. Bad Liam, bad.)

Hands trembling, he makes his way slowly back down to the platforms, biting his lip as he passes a bristling Louis, ignoring the gaping jaws of their other band mates as he takes his microphone, hands fucking _shaking_. 

Niall opens his mouth to say something but in a moment they are thrust up on stage and that was it. Liam let the music control him. 

 

*

 

'Alright, are you or are you not in love with Louis?' 

Niall throws himself onto the queen bed in his hotel room, gazing up at Liam, eyes determined. 

Liam shrugs, lowering himself next to Niall. 

'No Liam, I want an answer from you.'

'Alright, okay! I'm in love with Louis! But you know that!' He exclaims, throwing his hands up, 'Are you happy now that I’ve said it? Because, I love him and he fucking _hates_ me.'

That plunging knife is back in his chest, carving around his heart in slow strokes.

He falls back against the sheets, hands curling into Niall’s t-shirt.

'I don’t think he hates you, babes, I really don’t think he hates you. Li, what'd he say?' The blonde is quiet, hand soothing against Liam's arm, rubbing up and down. 

‘The gist of it was generally ‘ _leave me alone, you dick’_.’

‘Weren’t you doing that anyway?’

‘Not _helping,_ Niall!’

'Precisely!' The Irishman declares, hopping to his feet, 'Ya need a good smashing!'

Liam feels a smile push at his lips; because of course Niall's solution to everything is alcohol. 

Sky blue eyes sparkle in the bright hotel lights, cheeks slashing with red, thrumming with left over adrenalin from the concert. 

Liam shakes his head, 'I really don't think that that's a great idea—'

'I’m calling bullshit, Liam Payne, you're kidney's healed and you have no excuses. C'mon, you lazy arse, let's get the others and head out!'

'Oh no. Nononono—'

But Liam's protests go unheard as Niall drags him out of the room by his shirt, humming obnoxiously over him anytime that he tries to speak up. 

‘Lads, get your assess together, we’re heading out!’ Niall yells, barging right into the room that Harry and Louis share, only to find Zayn sprawled on the carpet as well.

‘What’s the occasion?’ Zayn questions from the floor, raising an eyebrow at the loud entrance.

Liam stumbles in behind Niall, trying in vain to pry Niall’s fingers out of his shirt. He freezes when Louis looks up from his phone, his whine of protest dying as his throat seizes up at the sight of the cold blankness in the sharpness of the blue eyes.

Niall glances back at Liam, eyes softening, and steps closer to him, tipping him on the chin, ‘C’mon Li, head up.’

_Leave me alone, you fucking dick! Leave me alone, you fucking dick!_

It echoes in his ears as the icy glare of Louis’ eyes burns into his face.

His lip splits under the weight of his teeth, the iron tang of blood sliding across his tongue as grey spots dance across his vision, leaving the room shivering at the edges of his vision.

_No, not here, please, not now!_

‘Hey, hey, no point hurting yourself, yeah?’ Niall murmurs quietly, hands rubbing his arms up and down, ‘Hold your breath, Liam, c’mon, mate—’

Liam’s hands shake, almost violent under the vibrations coursing through him, breathing wild and uncontrolled, ‘Ni—I—’

The panicked sounds of his tortured breathing drown out the confusion and horrified sounds of the other three jumping to their feet—

Lips slip across his, pressing in softly as warm hands curl around the hinges of his jaw.

Shocked, Liam kisses back on impulse, the vibrations of his body slowing as his breath catches in the back of his throat.

He stares back, eyes wide, as Niall steps away with a small grin, lips red, ‘Better?’

‘You—what?’ Liam splutters, fumbling with his shirt to have something to do with his hands.

Niall rolls his eyes, punching his arm, ‘You held your breath.’

‘What?’

‘When I kissed you, you held your breath.’

Liam can’t help the smile that curls the corners of his mouth, ‘Only you. Why the hell haven’t you done that before?’ He rubs a hand down his neck, feeling the heat of the flush spreading through the skin, and he sighs, ‘Thanks, Ni.’

‘Anytime, and because I only found out recently!’ The younger boy smiles, genuine and firm, a promise, and then the grin sharpens, ‘Besides, now I can say my first guy kiss was Liam Payne.’

‘Using me for your own reputation,’ Liam grins, ruffling Niall’s hair with a shaky hand, ‘I hate you, you little—’

‘What the _fuck_ was _that?’_  

Louis’ outraged hiss has their relieved smiles breaking, faces falling as they turn to the other three boys.

Liam avoids their eyes.

Niall sighs and curls an arm around him, gazing at the boys, ‘Panic attack.’

‘Since when you do you get panic attacks?’ Louis demands, scowling.

Liam flicks his eyes up, ‘Since…’

‘Since _you_ decided it was a good idea to fuck with his feelings.’ Niall hisses, eyes flashing under the fluorescent lights.

_Shit. Niall, shutupshutupshutup!!_

Harry and Zayn exchanges nervous glances before looking over at an expressionless Louis.

‘Niall _.’_ Liam mutters in reproof. ‘ _Please.’_

The Irishman rounds on him, ‘No Li, I am sick and _tired_ of him screwing with your emotions like this, and _you!’_ He gesticulates wildly at Liam, ‘ _You_ keep crawling back to him and I don’t understand! How can you love someone who treats you—’

 _‘Niall, no.’_ Liam insists, panic bubbling deep in his stomach, ‘You can’t—’

‘Finish the sentence, Niall,’ Louis interrupts, eyes stone cold. ‘Let’s hear it.’

Niall rolls his eyes as he looks up at the oldest boy, ‘You can hide behind that frozen face of yours, Lou, but we all know you care. It’s _because_ you care that you’re treating him like a fucking doormat, because he takes whatever he can from you. He’s too fucking _blind_ to even see that you care because he’s so fucking in love with you that—’

‘ _Enough,_ Niall,’ Liam finally explodes, grabbing his arm, ‘Just shut up, please.’

Surprisingly he listens, moving backwards to Liam’s side, a warm solid presence.

Liam lifts his head higher, takes the strength that Niall offers in silence, letting the tension settle on his shoulders, and looks at Zayn, heart sinking at the murderous expression in the honey eyes of his best-friend, ‘Zee?’

Zayn shoulders past them without a word, the door swinging shut behind him.

‘ _Crap,’_ Niall curses quietly.

‘I’ll…talk to him later…’

‘No, I’ll go.’ Niall says firmly, pressing his cheek to Liam’s temple, ‘He’ll understand. He will, Liam.’ And he walks out the door with an unreadable look aimed at Louis.

Liam looks away from the empty doorway to Harry, who smiles softly and opens his arms.

‘C’mere, Li.’

Something inside of him breaks at the sympathy and understanding that gleams behind the pulsating green curtain of Harry’s eyes, and he practically falls over himself as he stumbles into Harry’s embrace.

‘What the hell is Niall talking about?’

Liam freezes, muscles seizing at the question.

‘Let’s go get drunk.’ Harry declares, cheerfully interrupting the building conversation, and pulls Liam and a struggling Louis out of the room with no chance for protest. 


	2. Chapter 2

The drinking had clearly been a terrible idea because three hours later, three pissed off band mates are dragging the two of them by their collars down a hotel corridor.  

Harry, Zayn and Niall seem to have some kind of unspoken conversation as they manhandle both Liam and Louis into Liam’s room and lock the door. 

'Alright. This is _enough_.' Zayn growls, 'Fucking _talk_ to each other.'

'Harry, kindly tell Zayn that I will be doing _no_ such thing until I get an acceptable apology from that person,' Louis sits on the bed, a demanding look aimed at the youngest boy. 

Liam is beyond unprepared for what happens next.

'Fucking sort out your own problems, Lou.' He hisses, emerald green eyes flashing, 'Either _tell_ Liam that you want to have his fucking babies or kiss him first and get a head start on _making_ those babies. I don't care. I've had enough of you going off at the most ridiculous of things _just_ because Liam hugged Niall or kissed Zayn's head. I've had it.'

The silence that meets the outburst echoes in Liam's burning ears as he stares at Louis, stunned. 

'Get the fuck out.' Louis says impassively.

'Gladly,' Harry storms out, hair and suede jacket flying behind him. 

Zayn and Niall blink after him, before a silent conversation passes between them. 

'He's right. Sort your shit out.' Niall shoots a look at Liam and sweeps out the door, yelling something about tacos and tequila, as if he hadn’t drunk his weight in alcohol at the club already. 

Zayn watches them both for a few uncomfortable moments, eyeing the way Louis sits statuesque on the bed, and the way Liam watches him helplessly.

'Let me help a bit more than those two jokers. Liam, you love Louis. Louis, you love Liam. Capeesh? Okay. Now please for the sake of this band and the next fifty shows that we have to perform, kiss and makeup. Literally.'

He’s gone with a comforting slap to Liam's arm and an eyebrow aimed at Louis. 

The older boy doesn’t move.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Liam groans into his hands, before tearing at his hair in frustration.

Liam is done with all this fighting. He’s done with all the yelling and the name-calling and the—just about everything. That’s also probably the little blue drinks talking but he’s just going to roll with it for now because really, it seems to be working.

‘Okay, I’m about to do something completely suicidal,’ He murmurs mostly to himself, and puts all of his gym training to good use. ‘And it’s just as well that I’ve been drinking enough for this to work.’

The flying leap he takes at Louis ends as well as expected, a disbelieving Louis landing back first on the bed, Liam straddling his hips, hands braced either side of Louis’ head.

‘I hate you so much sometimes, you know that?’ Liam sighs, staring down at Louis, entirely unable to hide the fond smile that creeps onto his face. ‘You are an insufferable _git_ when you’re jealous and a petty arsehole when you don’t get your way, and the two put together is frankly terrifying. God knows why I’m in love with you and find you attractive like that, when your eyes are all angry and your mouth does the whole _I’m-pissed-and-all-you-inferior-beings-will-feel-my-wrath_ thingie and wow I really should not have taken those shots of vodka.’

Louis freezes under him, mouth opening in complete shock, and Liam watches helplessly as the glistening pink of his tongue traces across the arch of his lips.

‘Look,’ He manages after a moment, drawing his gaze back to Louis’ eyes, which by no means is a safer option, ‘I’m in love with you. Do you really need me to sing you the song too?’  

He gets no response.

‘Plan B it is then,’ he grumbles and presses his mouth to Louis’.

Well that’s where he aimed, but as intoxicated as he is (he can practically feel the vodka crawling through his blood), he misses, instead catching Louis’ lower lip and chin.

‘Goddammit,’ Liam growls under his breath, and steadies himself, which brings him face to face with Louis’ now openly shocked face.

‘Hi,’ Liam murmurs, searching Louis’ eyes for any sign of rejection or disgust, ‘So…you’re really pretty.’

He watches in awe, as Louis’ eyelashes sweep over his cheek, dark and long enough to be called sufficiently distracting, as a flush kisses his cheeks.

‘Liam.’

He jumps at the rasp of Louis’ voice, staring down at him, suddenly feeling like he had been drowned in a tub of ice.

‘Uh…’ He makes to jump off, suddenly grasping just where he was, and swallowing heavily at the feel of unmistakable presence of Louis underneath him.

A hand on his arm stops him.

‘If you fucking leave now, I swear to God, Liam, I’ll ne-never forgive you.’

Liam turns back then, eyes widening at the sort-of confession, dumbstruck at the vulnerability he sees reflected in soft blue of Louis’ eyes.

The realisation that _this_ is what he’s been waiting for, what he had been chipping away at for years now, this stripping away of the _final_ layer of Louis’ armour of stoic cynicism, has him leaning back over the older lad, legs slotting in between the V of Louis’ thighs and leaning on his forearms, pulled to him by the insistently sharp jerk at the pit of his stomach that has a flush easing through his body, ears burning.

And Louis’s gorgeous. He is. Laid out underneath him, cheeks thrumming with blood, blue eyes wide and terrified, he’s stunning.

‘Lou,’ Liam breathes, almost in disbelief, noses brushing lightly, ‘Louis.’

And Louis stares back up at him, the terror in his eyes falling away gradually as Liam strokes the side of his face with his thumb.

His eyes clear, and Liam, for the first time since they met, can see the absolute trust that’s shining there, the permission that Louis gives him to understand him, to not _hurt_ him.

‘Shut up and kiss me, you freaking tease—’

Liam bites back a smile, and hums. He tilts his head and brushes his lips over Louis’ before giving into the itching urge in his skin and slotting their mouths together.

It’s cliché and ridiculous and silly and any other kind of word you can find, he knows that, but it’s in the way that he’s thrumming with nervous energy and the vaguest blurs of alcohol and feeling like his body’s gone all numb at the same time, he can feel it. His fingers twist into Louis’ hair, his body burning in his clothes, head swimming, as Louis shifts under him, kissing him back slowly.

The ferocity of Louis’ words die in Liam’s mouth, the soft kisses unrushed and simmering like a flame in the flickering in the wind.

It’s sweet and mind-blowing and Liam just falls into the way that Louis kisses him, the way he slides a hand around his neck and surges up. Suddenly it’s all teeth and tongues and lips and there are sparklers exploding behind his eyelids and his world goes white when Louis’ other hand grips his hip and bloody _grins_ into the kiss. 

Liam feels like he’s flying, his world shaky as Louis teases his mouth over his lips before edging away slowly, grinning that wide, overjoyed smile of his, eyes crinkling.  

‘Hi. We’ve met. I kinda love you.’

Liam’s heart soars in his chest but he can’t help the words that spill out of his mouth, a grin curling around his mouth.

‘Only kind of? Because I _know_ I love you.’

‘I liked it better when you didn’t know the meaning of the word sassitude,’ Louis grumbles, sitting up slowly, holding Liam in his lap.

But he’s _grinning,_ this shy and he can’t seem to stop.

Liam bites his lip, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ mouth, ‘I learnt from the best.’

Louis laughs, almost for the first time in days, hands tight on his hips.

It’s almost as if the laughter lights something inside Liam because all he can do is lean forward and press his mouth hard onto Louis’, fingers aching as they catch on the fabric of his jumper.

Louis’ hands curl immediately into his hair, pressing himself along the length of Liam’s torso.

His eyes slip shut as Louis’ tongue slides along his lips, mouth too full of intent for Liam to even remember that he started this as he gives up all control to Louis.

‘Where’re we going?’ Louis murmurs into the skin of his cheek, hands sliding down Liam’s chest to worry at the hem of his shirt.

‘Hmm?’ Liam wonders, breath rushing through him as Louis’ hands wonder under his shirt, sliding along the planes of his stomach, along the ridges of muscle in increasingly uncontrolled movements.

‘Us. This.’ Louis chuckles darkly into the lobe of Liam’s ear, lips dragging against the thin skin underneath. ‘Tonight,’ he adds, voice roughened, and tugs at Liam’s hair. Liam hates the breathless sound that breaks over him, skin flushing under the embarrassment of being caught out with that.

‘Oh,’ Louis giggles as he does it again, kissing Liam hard as he swallows the sounds that he makes.

‘Haven’t,’ Liam gasped out, ‘Haven’t even been on a—Jesus fucking _Christ,_ ’ he hisses as Louis bites the pulse in his neck, clawing at Louis’ jumper in a fit as shocks race down his spine, ‘Date. Haven’t been on a d-date.’

A loud ripping noise has them both pulling back, lips red and swollen, staring down at the jagged tear down the middle of the jumper.

‘ _Shit.’_

‘Never mind the bloody jumper, come back here and kiss me,’ Louis growls through a wicked grin, yanking Liam back to him and licking right along his canines.

Liam wonders distantly, bright colours and flashes behind his eyelids, about something that Zayn had mentioned to him one night. A night when midnight hadn’t meant sleep, one of those nights when they’d stay up and talk and Liam would mostly listen to Zayn talk about English because he barely ever gets to do that now.

It’s the only thing he ever remembers after the night passes, this poem, circling around in his brain as he watches Louis.

_How does Love speak? By the uneven heart-throbs, and the freak of bounding pulses that stand still and ache_

Louis rolls them over, settling into Liam’s lap and pressing a bruising kiss to his lips, ‘Hey.’

‘Hi,’ Liam murmurs shyly, mesmerised by the way their chests heave in time, gazing up at Louis with a smile that he just can’t stop.

‘So,’ Louis wraps his legs around his waist, fitting ridiculously perfectly into Liam, ‘What now?’

He hides the dopey grin into Louis’ neck, and mumbles something incoherent about poems.

Louis laughs, ‘You’re adorable. Poems, really?’

‘Shut up.’ Liam rumbles petulantly.

‘C’mon Leeeeeeeyuummmm,’ he wheedles, ‘What’s Zayn carrying on about?’

‘ _Still as the dawn, and with the dawn’s swift force, thus does love speak,’_ Liam whispers quietly, looking straight into the Louis’ eyes, and skips a few lines, distracted by the clarity of the vibrant blue, ‘ _The eyes that glistens with an unshed tear, the joy that seems the counterpart of fear—’_

Louis’ mouth cut him off, sliding wetly against his in a heated kiss, and kisses him breathless, swallowing the words that Liam tries to get out. He licks right into Liam’s mouth, tilting his head and Liam sinks into him, sighing like it’s a moan.

Liam feels him grinning as he pulls back, totally proud and so completely fond, and Liam’s breathing like he’s been running, harsh heaving breaths, like, fuck life, he’s never been kissed like this before.

‘Never speak in public or I’ll definitely be arrested for indecency,’ Louis manages, breath damp against Liam’s neck.

He manages a chuckle through the ache in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat full against his ears, ‘Jesus, Lou, I love you, so much.’

Louis faces him, smile soft and private, ‘Yeah, I know.’

_Between the shores of keen delights and pains,_ _in the embrace where madness melts in bliss, and in the convulsive rapture of a kiss, thus does Love speak_


End file.
